


make me a necklace of your touch (and let me hang)

by androgynousmikewheeler



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotionally Repressed, Friends With Benefits, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Massage, Past Violence, it's mostly just them being soft and repressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28589253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgynousmikewheeler/pseuds/androgynousmikewheeler
Summary: Despite an ongoing sexual relationship, Spencer has never stayed the night at Hotch's apartment.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid
Comments: 3
Kudos: 92





	make me a necklace of your touch (and let me hang)

Hotchner runs his fingers through Spencer's hair as his breathing slowly returns to evenness, sense returning from post-orgasm fog. He presses a kiss to Spencer's forehead before helping him off his knees and onto his feet. 

Spencer shrugs on an old button up of Hotch's, a bit too broad in the shoulders, sagging around his upper arms but barely gracing his thighs, dotted with goosebumps. He rubs his cheek on the faded linen and smiles sleepily at Hotch. 

"Thanks," he whispers as he wipes sweat from his bruising cheekbone, "I needed that."

Aaron dutifully buttons the shirt for him, pressing a kiss to the skin underneath each fastening. "You did well, Spencer. I'm proud of you." He cracks the slightest smile. "I'm always proud of you."

Spencer beams and wraps his arms around Hotch. He freezes, unsure what to do with this unprecedented display of affection. 

"It's okay to hug me back," Spencer murmurs into the bare skin of his shoulder. 

Hotch coughs, trying to laugh off the awkwardness, and folds himself around Spencer. He sighs into the touch, the bone of Spencer's clavicle pressing into his throat, his muscles suddenly leaden. Their breath tumbles amongst the valleys of each other's skin, chilly in the Virginia winter. 

"Stay the night," Aaron breathes. 

Spencer pulls away just enough to look at him. "I thought you didn't like sharing a bed since..." He trails off apologetically, the name of a ghost heavy on his tongue.

Aaron sighs. "You're tired. I'm tired. I'm not making you go home. Plus," he strokes Spencer's cheek with an uncharacteristic gentleness, "it's a big bed for one person."

Spencer kisses him, something about the touch taboo, a relationship made up of work and friendship and sex a far cry from this intimacy. His hand finds the nape of Aaron's neck, pulling him along as he shuffles backwards until his knees hit the mattress. He sits, fingers running down Aaron's arm until they reach his wrist. Encircling it, bones jutting into his palm, Spencer gives a soft tug. 

"Come on, Aaron," he whispers, "get some sleep."

He pulls the blankets back and Aaron lies down, sheets cool on his skin. Spencer lies so close beside him, face to face, blown brown eyes and the lips that had kissed him just moments ago.

Hotchner clears his throat. "I, um," he swallows, "I usually sleep on my other side. Get enough injuries in the field and your joints ache when you sleep on them wrong."

Spencer nods against the elbow under his head and wiggles his bad knee. "Tell me about it."

Hotch points an awkward thumb over his shoulder. "So, I–"

"Yes, Agent Hotchner, I grant you permission to roll over."

Hotch rolls his eyes but does so, pushing his knuckles into the knot in his neck, trying to get comfortable. Eventually he sighs and gives up on the ache at the base of his skull, draping his arm out across the mattress.

Spencer's fingers send a chill down his spine as they replace his own behind his ears. "Still hurt?" he whispers. 

Hotch nods. "Usually does."

"Can I try?"

Hotch just nods again. The pads of Spence's thumbs push into the tense muscle, both painful and soothing in their steady insistence. They trace circles into Aaron's skin, a patient carpenter sanding away the roughness of a plank. He whispers under his breath about some mathematical principle, quiet and melodic, accompaniment to the rain just now starting to fall.

When Aaron wakes, Spencer's arm drapes over his shoulder, and for the first time in months, his neck doesn't hurt.


End file.
